


Hollow

by DeathBelle



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi (2017), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Begins at the conclusion of Episode VIII, Denial, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, First Time, Pining, Sexual Content, Spoilers, Suppressed Feelings, but still enemies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-17 19:22:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13083687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathBelle/pseuds/DeathBelle
Summary: When the last survivors of the Resistance escape Crait, Rey believes she is finally free of Kylo Ren. She is proven wrong when he starts appearing more and more frequently. Each time it happens, Rey finds it more difficult to suppress the feelings she gets whenever she looks at him, feelings that are best left buried. Her mind is well aware that feeling anything for Kylo Ren is foolish. Her heart disagrees.“You and I balance one another, Rey,” said Ben. “Without me, you would have no purpose. You need me.” He hesitated, brow folding as he looked away. “And I need you.”





	Hollow

As long as Rey was in motion, everything was fine.

When she fled from The Supremacy, she was fine. When she fired on the First Order forces above the salty terrain of Crait, she was fine. When she looked down at Kylo Ren from the Falcon – his presence painfully solid even though she knew it was just a projection, just a vision painted by the Force – her heart tore a little, but still, she was fine.

Aboard the ship, Rey answered flurries of questions about her time with Luke Skywalker and her conflict with Snoke. Most of her answers were the truth. Some were artfully concealed lies.

Rey was fine until the bustle died down and she was left in a corner, as isolated as she could be with so many people crowded onto the Falcon. She was alone with her thoughts for the first time since the incident aboard The Supremacy, since the moment she realized Kylo Ren was not going to turn.

She was alone, and she wasn’t fine anymore.

Everyone was too preoccupied to care, and Rey couldn’t fault them for that. They had all nearly died, and some of them had tasted death more vividly than the rest. She’d heard mumbles about Princess Leia’s miraculous escape from certain death, realized she’d felt a stirring in the Force at the time but had been too distracted to acknowledge it. She’d heard Poe Dameron, the pilot, talk about Finn’s nearly successful suicide run into the First Order’s battering cannon. She could visibly see how close Rose, a stranger that had been fleetingly introduced to her, had been to dying.

It had been to save Finn. Even if Poe hadn’t said it, Rey would have known anyway. The way Finn hovered around Rose like he was caught in her orbit was proof enough that he felt obligated to her in some way, that he felt he was in her debt.

He may have felt more than that. It was clear from the way Rose looked at him that she felt quite a bit for Finn. Rey couldn’t gauge Finn’s feelings clearly because he’d barely spoken a word to her since he’d boarded the Falcon.

He wanted to. Rey saw that. Finn glanced her way every few minutes, clearly concerned, the only one among the crowd that saw Rey’s shielded turmoil. Still, he didn’t approach; couldn’t, while he had Rose to look after.

Rey may have been bitter, had her emotions not already reached their limit for the day. For the rest of her life, perhaps. If she never felt anything else after all of this had ended, she wouldn’t complain.

She settled back against the hard wall and closed her eyes, feigning sleep. Finn’s stare landed on her and flitted away again, but she felt when he stopped looking. No one was watching her, and she only wished she was truly alone so she could cry and scream and have a proper tantrum.

That was what Ben would have done. She’d seen the way his temper got the best of him.

Rey bit the inside of her cheek and forbade herself to think of him, not like that. She could deal with Kylo Ren. That was easy. He was the greatest enemy to the Resistance, the greatest threat to the galaxy.

Kylo Ren was easy to think of.

Ben was not.

  
  
  
  
  
They made it to the Outer Rim, where old allies waited. No one had rushed to their aid when they’d been cornered at Crait, and the last members of the Resistance had been presumed dead. The allies were surprised by their arrival, but also energized by their account of the battle. The death of Snoke stoked a fire in them, one that made justice burn in their eyes like sparking embers. 

Princess Leia introduced Rey like she was a prize, something to be admired. Rey tried to present herself in the way that was expected of her, in a way that would forge a stronger alignment with these allies.

Leia spoke of Rey’s strength and power and alignment with the Force, and the whispers in the crowd sounded much like _Jedi_.

It was enough to have the allies welcome them with open arms, to speak of rekindling old alliances, to promise their ships and their weapons and their armies to the Resistance.

It meant a second chance. It meant hope.

Rey was present through these proceedings. She was in the thick of it, not only a spectator, but a participant. Everyone wanted to know her opinion and her plans. They wanted to know the best way to defeat the First Order, because she had more firsthand experience than anyone else.

She told them what she could, the words dripping from numb lips. Each time Kylo Ren was mentioned, the hollow feeling in her chest grew deeper. 

She told them Snoke was dead, but didn’t explain. She told them if they wished to defeat the First Order, they must defeat Kylo Ren. She said many things, and though she was present, she felt as if she wasn’t truly there at all.

Rey recalled the look on Ben’s face when she’d shut the door of the Falcon between them, when she’d shut herself away from him. 

That had been more real than this meeting, than these people and these conversations, and he hadn’t even been there.

Finn kept looking at her. She knew it, although she didn’t let herself look back. Rose had been carried off for medical treatment, so he had some attention to spare. She wondered how she looked to Finn, who’d once seen her at her worst.

Finn didn’t know what her worst looked like anymore. She’d sank much lower since then.

She wondered what Finn would say if he knew that she’d trusted Kylo Ren. She wondered what he would say if he knew that Rey had gone to The Supremacy willingly because she thought she could guide Kylo Ren toward the light.

He would think she was mad.

Time dragged on; a day, a week, maybe a century. Rey lost track. It trickled past like sand through her fingers, rough and hot from the scalding Jakku sun.

Eventually, one of the allies led her to a room.

Eventually, she was left alone with a deep bucket of water and a handful of towels with which to wipe away blood and sweat and grime. 

Eventually, she sat on the edge of an unnecessarily soft bed and stared down at her hands, which she’d scrubbed clean. The room they’d given her was nice; luxurious, even. It was more indulgent than anywhere she’d been, so much so that it was discomfiting. She thought about sneaking back out to the Falcon and spending the night on board, where she could at least bask in the comfort of familiarity.

To do so, she would run the risk of seeing her fellow Resistance members, and she would have to wear her mask of poise and strength. 

She’d worn it for too long. She thought if she put it on again, it would shatter.

Instead, she curled into herself in the middle of the supple bed and finally, _finally_ , let herself cry.

It hurt, more than the injuries she’d gotten in any of her fights.

It hurt as if she was on The Supremacy again, with Ben standing in front of her, as she realized her faith in him had been misplaced. 

It hurt, and she soaked in the pain.

  
  
  
  
  
Rey’s days were busy, and it was a relief. When she was sitting at a large table with the most important of the allies, discussing strategy and mapping out plans of attack, everything was okay. When she was in the strange forest of wide trees and spiraling bushes beside the city, wielding her staff like the light saber that had been shattered in Snoke’s throne room, everything was okay.

At night, when she was alone in her room again, accompanied only by her own aching thoughts, nothing was okay.

She thought that, soon enough, she would get over it. Things like this didn’t last forever. Disappointment rose and fell like the tide, and that’s all this was. She was disappointed that her efforts to redeem Kylo Ren had failed. She was disappointed that she hadn’t convinced him to side with the Resistance, because he would have been a valuable ally.

It was only disappointment. Nothing deeper, nothing more damaging.

Rey sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed, staring at the far wall, trying to steer her thoughts in a less painful direction, when she felt him.

It wasn’t startling, at first. It was familiar, like slipping into a well-worn pair of shoes.

Then she realized what the feeling was, and she whipped her head to the side to find Ben sitting a foot away from her, his face drawn in the same blank surprise that she felt. Neither of them moved. Rey’s heart kicked against her chest, her pulse pounding in her ears. Her hands gripped the sheets, body tensing with the need to fight or fly or just _move_.

“Rey.”

It was a single word, deep and simple and innocent.

Rey’s fury burst like a sudden sandstorm. 

She rolled off of the bed and landed on her feet, hands curled into fists, glare searing into Ben.

“Get out,” she said, the words sliding through clenched teeth.

“I didn’t do this,” he said, sitting straighter. “I didn’t try to connect with you.”

“I don’t care,” said Rey. She didn’t pause to consider if she believed him or not. It didn’t matter. “Get out.”

Ben didn’t move. 

Rey realized, somewhere in the back of her mind, beyond the blind rage, that he looked tired. More than tired; he looked like he hadn’t slept since she’d last seen him.

She didn’t even know how long ago that had been. Weeks, maybe. Time was still slipping away from her.

“I knew you were safe,” said Ben. It was strange to see him as the composed one between them. “I would have felt if anything had happened to you.”

“Just like you felt your mother?” spat Rey. “When you nearly killed her?”

Ben’s face flickered, so quickly that the expression couldn’t be read. It smoothed back into impassivity as he said, “It appears you still haven’t changed your mind about joining me.”

Rey’s anger peaked. “Get out!” she shouted, the volume loud in her own ears. She seized a pillow and flung it at him with a snarl. 

It never hit him. He vanished, and the pillow passed through the empty space. 

Rey spun in a circle, searching the corners of the room, finding nothing.

She threw herself back down on the bed, buried her face in her arms, and screamed so she wouldn’t cry.

Someone knocked at the door, a muffled voice asking after her.

She ignored it, and eventually she was left alone.

Eventually, everyone always left her alone.

  
  
  
  
  
Days trickled by. A week or two, perhaps a month. The days were getting shorter, and this time it wasn’t because Rey was losing track of the hours. One of the suns in the distance had disappeared over the past couple of nights. Now only a faint orange glow remained at even the peak hours of the day. 

The wind was cold, but Rey was unconcerned. The staff whipped through the air, familiar and sturdy in her grip. She spun with it, twirled in a half-circle, struck out at nothing. She tucked the staff beneath her arm, spun it behind her back, and swung it in a downward arc, stopping just before she slapped the ground.

Her arms burned from the effort, sweat dripping down her temples. Her breath fogged with every exhale, and though the air on her bare hands was arctic, the warmth of exertion burning in her blood was enough to stave away the chill.

She had grown to love that forest, as odd as it was. No one followed her out there. She wasn’t certain if anyone even knew this was where she disappeared to. Surely someone did, despite the precautions she took each time she sneaked away. They weren’t stupid enough to let her slip out unnoticed. She was too valuable to them. Someone was probably lurking at the outskirts of the forest, waiting for her to return, to make sure she was okay.

Rey wasn’t okay. She wasn’t certain if she would ever be.

She twisted the staff in her grip and started to shift into a different formation when she felt him again.

He was behind her this time. She didn’t have to look to know.

She pulled in a cold breath, expelled it slowly, and said, more calmly than she felt, “Go away.”

“I’m not doing it on purpose.”

Rey spun the staff in her hand as she turned. He looked the same as ever, dressed in black, still appearing as if he was lacking sleep. 

“Why is this still happening,” she said, “now that Snoke is dead? He was the one who did it.”

“He made the connection,” said Ben. “His death didn’t break it.”

“I wish it would have,” said Rey. She tapped one end of the staff against the ground, testing the spongy soil. “I have nothing to say to you.”

Ben glanced around, as if trying to see her surroundings instead of his own. Then his eyes settled back on Rey and he said, “You no longer have a light saber to fight with. I could teach you how to make one, just as I made mine.”

“I don’t want your help.”

“No,” agreed Ben, “but you need it. How do you expect to be a Jedi without a proper weapon? How to you expect to fight me without one?”

Rey shifted her weight and swung the staff with such force that it whistled through the air.

Ben raised a hand and caught it, the impact jarring both of them. His grip tightened around the end of the staff, his stare never leaving Rey. 

“Reconsider,” he said, his voice low in the still forest. “It isn’t too late.”

“Yes,” she said, “it is.” She yanked the staff back, ignoring the solidity of Ben’s grip, of how real he was, despite the distance between them. “But not for me. It’s too late for you.”

“Is it?” said Ben. He stepped forward, his presence heavy in the low light of the forest. “If I said I’d changed my mind, would you say it’s too late? If I said I want to join you, that I want to come to the light. Would you really say no?”

Rey’s heartbeat stuttered. She looked up at him, the staff hanging in a loose grip at her side. “Have you?” she asked, quietly. “Have you changed your mind?”

The silence of the forest was suddenly deafening. A decade passed between them, a flicker of passing lifetimes. 

Ben said, “No. I haven’t, and I won’t.”

Rey pretended that the feeling in her chest, the spike of icy hurt, was only the swirl of the frigid wind. 

“And neither will I,” said Rey. “Go away.”

She turned and raised her staff to begin another flow of formations. Somewhere behind her, Ben’s presence was snuffed out like an unwanted candle flame.

She sucked in a breath, savored the burn of icy air in her lungs, and sliced her staff through the descending darkness.

  
  
  
  
  
“What are you doing?” The voice didn’t startle her. She’d felt him appear, just as she always did, though she hadn’t yet seen him.

Rey sat with her legs folded and her hands on her knees, back straight, eyes closed. She was on the rounded edge of one of the low buildings, overlooking the forest. She’d been attempting to practice meditation as Luke had taught her.

This sudden interruption made things more difficult.

Rey took another breath and tried to expand her consciousness.

It snapped right back into her own mind when she heard the scrape of shoes, the huff of someone dropping down beside her. She cracked one eye open and peered to the side to find Ben badly mirroring her position. His legs were folded but his back was hunched, elbows on his knees, staring blankly at surroundings that Rey couldn’t see.

His head tilted in her direction, and she closed her eyes again.

“He taught me that, too,” said Ben. “Meditating to appreciate how everything is connected by the Force.” He shook his head. Rey didn’t see it, but she felt it. 

“I suppose you’re above that,” said Rey, unmoving. 

“There are more useful things to focus on,” said Ben. “Meditating is necessary, but spending too much time doing so is a waste. You should be learning how to use the Force instead of just observing it. A soldier never learned to use a blaster just by staring at it.”

“Forgive me,” said Rey, her voice gaining heat, “if I don’t respect the opinion of someone who betrayed his own family.”

“That’s forgivable,” said Ben. “Although you should respect the opinion of someone stronger than you.”

Rey’s eyes snapped open. “You aren’t stronger than me.”

He was already looking at her, his face maddeningly calm. “We would have been equals, if you’d stayed. Out there on your own, you’ll only get weaker.”

“You know nothing about me.”

“That’s untrue,” said Ben, “and you know it.”

“I don’t need you,” said Rey. She pressed her hands against the cold roof. The sensation was grounding. 

“You can try and convince yourself of that,” said Ben, “but you’re wrong.” He leaned back on his hands, stared into the distance as if he could truly see the forest splayed out beneath them. “The Force is about balance. I’m sure my old teacher told you that. There is a perfect balance between life and death, light and darkness.” He turned his head, studied her with that steady stare that belied the temper that often flared beneath. “You and I balance one another, Rey. Without me, you would have no purpose. You need me.” He hesitated, brow folding as he looked away again. “And I need you.”

Warmth and longing and bitterness burst in Rey’s chest, the emotions strong enough to steal the breath from her lungs. “Stop it,” she said, nearly breathless. “I’m not joining you, Ben. I won’t change my mind.”

“I’m not trying to change your mind,” said Ben. “Not anymore.”

“Then what are you doing?”

There was only the distant whisper of wind through the trees.

“This connection,” said Rey, “needs to stop. Whatever is causing it must end.”

“It wasn’t an accident this time,” said Ben. “I initiated it.”

Rey blinked at him. She was too surprised to be angry. “Why?”

“I wanted to see how you were doing,” said Ben. He looked at her, fleeting, before pushing himself off the ground. “Goodbye, Rey.”

She blinked again, and he was gone. The pressure of his presence vanished, leaving a strange hollowness in its wake. 

Rey didn’t even try to resume her meditation. It was pointless, with her thoughts so scattered. Too many feelings surged in her blood, some of which she recognized, others that she ignored. 

She hated Kylo Ren. There was no question about that. He was a murderer, a disciple of the dark side’s terror and brutality.

As much as she should have, as much as she wanted to, she couldn’t quite hate Ben.

  
  
  
  
  
Their first victory came several months after their retreat from Crait. It wasn’t a large triumph - certainly not enough turn the tide of the war - but it was something. 

For the most part, the Resistance was ecstatic. It was their first win in a long while, the first sign that they stood even the slimmest chance against the First Order. There were celebrations, food and drinks and joy.

Rey didn’t participate. She wasn’t as enthused by the victory as the others were. Her stomach was a pit of churning anxiety, simmering in latent anger and raw disappointment.

She didn’t understand why, at first. She should have been pleased. She should have been overjoyed. A follow-up to the win was already being planned, an attack that would surely cripple the First Order if successful. This was what she wanted. This was what she’d fought for.

Still, the blend of bad feelings didn’t pass, even as she slipped away from the festivities, even as she retreated to her room. 

She only realized the cause when Kylo Ren’s presence appeared, slithering into existence like a wraith in the shadows.

He appeared before her, facing away, broad shoulders stiff. 

When he felt Rey he turned, his fierce stare cutting straight through her.

Rey realized why she had suffered such negative emotions. 

The feelings brewing in her gut weren’t her own.

“Now is _not_ the time for this,” he said, rage and resentment stewing in his voice. He looked to the side, at something Rey couldn’t see. “I wasn’t speaking to you,” he snapped. He flung a hand at something beyond Rey’s vision, his mouth twisted into a snarl. “Get out!”

A moment ticked by as he glared at the source of his anger. Then he returned his attention to Rey, eyes smoldering with hardly suppressed fury.

Rey wondered what the room around him looked like, if he’d lashed out in his rage. 

She wondered if he’d cut down whomever had been unfortunate enough to deliver the news of their loss.

She wondered if someday Ben would disappear beneath this angry shell, beneath the crushing gravity of Kylo Ren.

“Have you come to gloat?” he said, stalking nearer. 

Rey felt the urge to step back, but stood her ground. “No.”

“What, then?” he demanded. “What do you want? This means nothing. It’s hardly even a setback for me. An inconvenience, at worst. Do you think this will stop the First Order? Do you think _anything_ will stop the First Order?”

She felt the Force buzzing around him, reacting to his anger, strengthening him.

She wondered for the first time if he could kill her this way, through this strange link forged by the Force.

“I haven’t said anything,” said Rey, her fingers curling into fists. “I didn’t make contact. I never have.”

“Not consciously,” said Kylo Ren, “but that doesn’t mean you aren’t responsible. You were thinking of holding this over me, weren’t you? You wanted to boast.”

“No,” said Rey, “I didn’t.”

He turned away and slung a hand through the air. Rey couldn’t see his surroundings, but she knew something had been destroyed.

“Enjoy this while you can,” he said, not looking at her. “Soon enough the Resistance will be crushed for good. You’ll be crushed along with them.”

“We’ll see,” she said simply. 

With that, the connection was severed, and her feelings of dread lessened. They were replaced with those of disquiet and concern.

Not for the first time, she told herself that Ben was beyond her reach. 

If only she could make herself believe it.

  
  
  
  
  
Days bled into weeks. The First Order hadn’t retaliated, and Rey thought it was only because they hadn’t yet figured out from which territory the Resistance was operating. That was the only reason they’d survived this long in blatant opposition. Their subtlety saved them.

More plans had been hatched by Princess Leia and those in the higher rankings of the Resistance. Rey was counted among that number, as was Poe, and Finn. Somehow Rose had been included as well, and she always sat at Finn’s side.

Rey didn’t know what sort of relationship was between the two of them, if any. At some point in the not-so-distant past, she may have cared.

These days she couldn’t muster up the energy to do so.

Finn still spoke to her. He often asked if she was okay, and though she always assured him that she was, he never seemed wholly convinced. Sometimes he tried to press, but Rey always shook him off. There was nothing wrong that he could fix. There was nothing that anyone could fix.

After the conclusion of a meeting, and a brief conversation with Finn that ended with Rose’s well-timed interruption, Rey slipped outside and into the forest. She hadn’t gone to fetch her staff, but her purpose wasn’t to practice. It was simply to escape.

She sat in the soft indigo grass, the blades almost fuzzy beneath her fingertips. Everything about the forest was gentle, accommodating. 

Except for Rey. When she was there, she unbalanced that gentleness. 

She tipped her head back against a tree and closed her eyes. She hadn’t seen Ben in a while, not since the day of the Resistance’s small victory. She wasn’t sure that even counted, considering there had been nothing reminiscent of Ben beneath Kylo Ren’s fury. It was the longest silence they’d had since these episodes had restarted. She knew he was still out there, unhurt, regardless of the lack of communication. If he’d been struck down, the loss would have shaken the Force across a hundred galaxies. Anyone with even the slightest inclination for the Force would have felt it. 

She knew that, but it didn’t stop her from wondering why he hadn’t appeared again. Perhaps he wouldn’t. If he’d decided she was hopeless, that she was wholly dedicated to the Resistance, maybe he had cut her off for good. That would be best for both of them.

Still, it was unsettling to think about.

Without giving herself permission, without thinking it through, she felt herself reaching out with her consciousness, tapping into the Force that infused the world around her. It was easier than she’d expected. Only a few heartbeats later, she felt him.

She didn’t open her eyes immediately. She waited, pulse pounding in her ears, air cold and dry in her throat.

“Rey.”

His voice was low, calm, a little breathless. Rey didn’t respond.

“I didn’t think I would see you again,” said Ben.

“If only.”

He wandered to the side, a little further away but still within reach. When he came back, he looked down at her. She felt his stare, his presence; familiar and just the least bit comforting.

Rey finally opened her eyes. Ben was shirtless, as she’d seen him once before. His hair was damp with sweat, as was his face and his chest. He wiped at his neck with a towel. It would have been easier to just close her eyes again.

“It felt different,” said Ben. “Did you make the connection on purpose?”

“Of course not,” said Rey, the lie heavy on her tongue. “What reason would I have for it?”

Ben may have believed her, or he may have sensed the insincerity. Either way, he didn’t press. He sat in front of her with his towel draped around his neck, leaning his weight back on his palms. 

Rey remembered how he’d looked the last time she’d seen him, with the righteous rage of Kylo Ren contorting his face like the mask he’d once worn. The features were the same, but that was where the similarity ended. This was Ben; only Ben. He looked different. He _felt_ different.

Rey shouldn’t have reached out to him. She should have continued believing that Ben was gone for good. That would have been easier.

“I found some crystals,” said Ben, “that could be used to power a light saber.”

Rey wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so she said nothing.

“They’re synthetic,” continued Ben, “so they probably wouldn’t be fitting of a Jedi such as yourself. The Jedis always preferred natural crystals.”

“Why are we talking about this?”

“It’s only an offer,” said Ben. “I told you before that I can teach you to make a weapon.”

“And I told you that I don’t need your help.”

“I remember,” said Ben. “I was hoping you’d changed your mind.”

“I haven’t,” said Rey. “Not about anything.”

Ben nodded vaguely and glanced off to the side. “The Resistance hasn’t launched any more attacks against us. What are you waiting for?”

“I’m not discussing Resistance matters with you.”

He looked back at her, a little sharply. “Then why are you here?”

“I can’t help that the Force connects us like this, I don’t-”

“You chose to come here,” said Ben. “You can’t fool me. What do you want?”

Rey opened her mouth to argue, to deny it, but it would have done no good. Ben knew she was lying. It was clear in his eyes.

“Nothing,” she said. “It was a mistake.” 

She started to pull her consciousness back, to peel away from him like fraying threads.

“Rey, _wait_.”

She hesitated, and hated herself for it.

“I lost my temper with you,” said Ben. “The last time we spoke.”

It was almost an apology, and it only made Rey angry. “What does it matter?” she snapped. “Are you saying you didn’t mean what you said?”

“I meant it,” said Ben, calm in the face of her anger. It was an imbalance between them, her temper and his passivity. It was opposite and wrong, and made Rey feel stranded. “Of course I meant it. The Resistance will fall, and if you are set on your decision, then you will fall with them.”

Rey’s glare tightened, her jaw clenching.

“It is inevitable,” said Ben, “but that doesn’t mean I am eager for it. For the end of the Resistance, yes. I want to watch all of them burn.” There was a flare of feeling in his eyes, an emotion that was quickly tamped down. “But I dread the day that you burn with them. I’ll do what I have to do, for the sake of the Order, but that doesn’t mean I will enjoy it.”

“You intend to kill me, but it won’t be fun for you,” hissed Rey. “Is that supposed to be comforting?”

“I didn’t mean it as a comfort. It’s only the truth.”

Rey stared past him, at the cluster of trees that hemmed them in and blocked the city from view. 

She wasn’t angered by the idea of him killing her. It was to be expected. She would do the same, if the need arose. She should have done it in the throne room, after Snoke’s death. It would have saved the Resistance much trouble and casualties. It would have been justice.

But she hadn’t, just as he hadn’t killed her when he’d been given the chance.

She didn’t think either of them would make that mistake again.

Ben leaned closer, brows tucked together. “Is it cold where you are?”

Rey blinked, startled by the question. “Why?”

“You’re shaking.”

She looked down at herself. Her arms were folded across her chest, fingers trembling. When she exhaled, her breath was a small cloud in the air. “No, it’s not cold.”

“You’re lying,” said Ben. “Are you outside?”

“Stop trying to pry information out of me,” said Rey. “I’m not telling you where I am.”

“I didn’t ask about that.”

“Then why do you care?”

“Because you’re cold,” said Ben. “Go inside. Don’t be ridiculous.”

Rey said nothing. She picked apart his words in her mind, seeking the ulterior motive beneath them. Even if she moved locations, he wouldn’t know where she was or what she was doing. Her surroundings would remain anonymous. There was no reason for Ben to pretend to care about her wellbeing.

Unless he really did just care.

She shook the thought away. It was too foolish to entertain. 

“I’m finished,” said Rey. “I won’t contact you again. Leave me alone.”

Before he could protest, she ripped herself away from him. His presence vanished, and the small forest clearing suddenly felt a lot emptier. 

A strange vacancy filled her.

It felt a lot like loneliness.

She shook it off, crawled to her feet, and shuffled through the foreign grass, back toward the city.

  
  
  
  
  
The Resistance mounted another attack a fortnight later and were again awarded with success. Rey went along on the mission and felt the thrill of victory firsthand. It was exhilarating, empowering.

Beneath her own feelings, there was a deeper pit of rage that she recognized as Kylo Ren’s, resonating from half a galaxy away.

She pretended that she felt nothing.

  
  
  
  
  
A plan was built slowly, piece by piece, to hone in on the First Order’s main fleet. More allies had sided with the Resistance, and there was now a formidable battalion backing them. It was a vast difference from the straggling survivors that had escaped Crait nearly a year before. Victory wasn’t guaranteed, not by a long shot, but it was within their reach. They weren’t confident, but they had hope. 

Rey had a large role to play, as was expected. The plan’s success was dependent on her. She should have felt the strain, but the pressure had only turned her resolve into steel. Nothing about this would be easy, but she would do it all the same. She was prepared to do whatever was necessary.

If that meant facing Kylo Ren, she was willing to do it.

If that meant killing him, she would do that, too.

The final meeting concluded, and Rey headed to her room for the last time. They would pack up and begin travelling tomorrow. No matter which way the battle went, she would never return to that room again. She would likely never see that planet again, or the forest she’d grown to love. 

All things considered, giving this up wasn’t the worst sacrifice she would have to make.

She dressed in her night clothes and slipped into bed, bundled beneath the covers, the oddly comforting glow of a cerulean moon bleeding through the high window. It was peaceful here, safe. 

She wondered if she would ever feel that way again.

Rey closed her eyes and settled in, though she wasn’t fooling herself into thinking she would actually sleep. There was too much to anticipate for the following day, too much that she was expected to do, too many things that could go wrong. 

She was resigned to a night of sleeplessness, but what she hadn’t expected was the familiar presence that appeared at the foot of her bed.

She recognized him in an instant. She thought that even if they were on opposite sides of the universe, she would still be able to feel him. 

It wasn’t a good thing.

Rey didn’t move. She kept her eyes closed and her breathing even, tracking Ben’s movements with only her mind.

He moved closer, his clothes barely rustling, almost silent. He stopped at her side, and Rey felt the weight of his scrutiny.

His presence loomed over her, and despite the aura of power that he’d always worn like a crown, it didn’t feel threatening. She didn’t move as he towered over her, or as he reached out.

He touched her hair, so gently that it was hardly even contact. 

Rey’s heartbeat raced, but she didn’t even twitch.

“I know you’re awake,” said Ben as he withdrew his hand. 

“What do you want?” 

“The Resistance is planning something,” said Ben. “Something crucial.”

“I’m not telling you anything.”

“I don’t expect you to.”

“What do you want, then?”

There was a pause, long enough that Rey cracked one eye open.

Ben gazed down at her, face unreadable.

“I wanted to see you,” he said. “Once more. In case it’s the last time.”

Rey’s stomach plummeted. She sat up, breath catching in her throat. She knew the potential consequences of the upcoming attack. She knew there would be casualties on both sides, and that she might be one of them, and that if they were lucky, Kylo Ren would be among that number.

She knew that, but she hadn’t truly considered what that could mean.

Ben was right. This might be the last time she spoke to him outside of battle, outside of the roles that they’d chosen to play on their respective sides of the war. This might be the last time that he was Ben, before he was eternally engulfed by his alternate persona. 

This might be the last time she looked at his face and saw someone other than Kylo Ren glaring back.

It shouldn’t have mattered. She should have felt nothing at the realization. Ben wasn’t supposed to mean anything to her. She’d spent the last year telling herself that he didn’t.

Yet, when confronted with this possibility, she felt hollow.

The silence between them was suffocating. Rey didn’t know what to say. 

Ben interpreted that as a dismissal.

“I’ll let you sleep,” he said, turning away. “I’m sorry, for whatever happens after this.”

She should have let him go, both physically and emotionally. She should have cut him off before his roots burrowed even more deeply inside her, before there was no longer any hope of pruning him away.

As she stretched forward to catch his sleeve, hating herself even as she tugged him back, she realized that time had already come and gone.

She didn’t know when Ben had become so important to her, but he had.

If this was truly the last time that they would be together like this, as something other than nemeses, she couldn’t let it end so quickly.

She wanted to remember Ben as he was now, not as what he would be in the days to come.

“Wait,” she said, fingers curling more tightly into his sleeve.

Ben looked at her, and she couldn’t read the expression flitting about his face. “What?”

“Don’t go,” said Rey. She was angry at herself for this, for being weak, but she tucked that anger away. It was overshadowed by other emotions, ones that were more pressing, ones that didn’t want Ben to fade out of her life. “Not yet.”

He didn’t move, at first. He looked torn, conflicted, the way that Rey felt. After a flickering hesitation, he made the same decision as she had made already. He turned back, braced a knee on the edge of the bed, and leaned over her.

Rey had always believed that when she and Ben were connected like this, he wasn’t truly there. It was a trick of the Force, a contrived glitch in their minds that allowed them to see one another. 

She’d been convinced, but now she felt Ben’s breath on her lips and the warmth of his skin, and suddenly she wasn’t so sure.

“How are you in my bed,” she whispered, “if you aren’t really here?”

“I’m not. I’m in my own bed, and you’re here with me.”

Rey raised a hand, fingers unsteady, and traced the line of his jaw. It was solid beneath her touch, warm and real. Ben’s eyes fell closed, and he pressed his face into her palm.

“Do you really want me here?” asked Ben.

Rey felt the buzz of his voice in her fingertips.

“Yes,” she said. She didn’t let herself think about what she was doing. She didn’t let herself think about the consequences. “Stay.”

His gaze was thoughtful but focused, soft but sharp. He inclined his head and hesitated with only a bare breath between their lips. 

Rey’s fingers threaded into his hair and she bridged the distance between them.

It wasn’t slow and tentative like she’d imagined it would be, on the rare occasion that she’d allowed herself to imagine it. Rey kissed him as if she’d done it a thousand times before, as if she intended to do it a thousand times more.

Ben’s mouth was hot and his body was solid, and Rey forgot that he was galaxies away. She forgot that he was her enemy, and that tomorrow, her goal would be his destruction. She forgot about everything except for Ben’s lips sliding against hers, his hand on her waist, his breath in her mouth.

She pressed her hands against his chest and pushed him away. He sat back on his heels, his hair ruffled from her fingers. 

Before he could ask, Rey sat up and pulled her shirt over her head, tossing it aside, watching Ben’s eyes dip down before returning to her face. 

“Are you sure?” he said, not reaching for her, not moving.

Rey shuffled closer, gripped the front of his shirt, and pulled him in for another kiss. It was answer enough.

If the situation had been different, they may have gone slowly. They may have taken the time to appreciate one another, to explore, to cherish their first time together.

But this was their only night, and within the week, one of them would likely be dead.

Rey laid herself bare and pulled at Ben’s clothes until he did the same. She trailed her hands along his shoulders, down his chest. His skin was soft, except for his hands. They were rough as he gripped her hips, callused from years of training, but still gentle as he stretched over her. Her toes skimmed his thighs as she wrapped her legs around him, ankles crossing at his lower back. 

The two of them went still. Hot breaths mingled in the air between them, their eyes reflecting matched desperation. Ben brushed the hair away from Rey’s forehead with surprising tenderness, and she touched the scar on his cheek.

Ben kissed her, lingering. Then he pressed into her, and Rey’s gasp was lost somewhere in Ben’s mouth.

His thrusts were slow and strong, a fluid rhythm, and Rey rolled her hips up to meet him. She gripped his shoulders, a sheen of sweat sliding beneath her hands, and pulled him closer.

For a while they existed in a world of their own, caught in limbo, connected by the Force and by flesh. Rey breathed Ben instead of air. She realized it wouldn’t have made a difference if they were in the same room or a galaxy away. This was real, more real than anything she’d felt.

Ben’s breaths were low and jagged. Rey tasted him on her lips, on her tongue. He was surrounding her, inside of her, _everywhere_ , and she muffled a moan into his mouth as bliss burst within her with the heat of a blazing sun.

Ben’s grip tightened on her waist, his muscles shaking. Rey rocked up into him and kissed along his jaw, floating down from her high as he reached his peak.

They laid beside one another for a while, the smell of sex heavy between them. Rey fitted a hand against Ben’s, studying length of his fingers and the calluses on his palms. She watched the rise and fall of his chest, noted the hair that stuck to his forehead, and listened to his slow breathing. 

She thought of anything except what would happen next.

“Are you sure,” said Ben after a while, his voice low, “that you won’t join me?”

A pang of regret cut through Rey’s chest. She tightened her fingers around Ben’s and said, “I’m as likely to turn as you are.”

He wasn’t disappointed. He’d already known the answer. He squeezed her hand, lightly. “I should go.”

“This doesn’t change anything,” she said. “Not with us, and not with the war.”

“I know,” said Ben. He sat up and brushed his lips over her knuckles. “I have a feeling I’ll see you soon.”

“It won’t be like this.”

“No,” he agreed. “I think it will never again be like this.”

Rey should have felt something at that, but she was only resigned. She’d known what she had agreed to when she’d asked Ben to stay, and it wasn’t any sort of commitment.

“Goodbye, Rey,” he said, taking one last look at her.

“Goodbye, Ben,” she whispered back, even as she felt his presence vanish, trickling away like rainwater.

She rolled over and closed her eyes, ignoring the hollowness in her chest and the heat prickling at the backs of her eyes. She wouldn’t cry for this, for him. Not anymore, not again. 

She would let herself have the night to think of him. She would think of the way he’d touched her, the way he’d kissed her. She would think of his gentleness and concern. She would think of how things may have been different if he’d never given into Snoke, if he’d never chosen the dark side.

After tonight, she would think of those things no longer. She couldn’t afford to do so. 

When dawn broke, they would be enemies once more, and Rey would do what she must.

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't my usual fandom, so if I've made any factual mistakes please let me know!


End file.
